


dangerous

by orphan_account



Series: unrelated tumblr shorts [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, wow i rarely write canon setting things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: prompt: introduction





	dangerous

The meeting is a long time coming, and there had been a lot to put in place for Jim Moriarty to be able to come face to face with Mycroft Holmes.

Oh, he’s been warned against it. He’s been warned time and again ever since he set up shop in London, not to cross paths with Mr. Holmes. That he’s not to be trifled with. That he could cause problems.

_A very dangerous man._

Jim shivers, back to the door, blocking his own exit. Mr. Holmes is sitting behind that big, ornate desk of his, looking like he is too busy for the likes of Jim.

This is a man who could as easily order Jim’s quiet disappearance as he could launch a merciless takedown of Jim’s operations and dress it up with much fanfare for public opinion, depending on what his masters of the day need. Even though he’ll never have enough evidence for either route to be above board, it’s not like he needs it to be. He makes the rules, and Jim’s just here to break them.

_Scary, scary, scary._

Jim’s sense of self-preservation wars with his irreverence for the very notion. For all of Jim’s paranoia, for all that he has a compulsive need to always be ten steps ahead and have a dozen ways out, that voice in his head telling him to _jump, jump, jump_ never stops screaming. Though it does laugh, sometimes, when he throws himself headlong into something utterly dangerous.

Something like winning Mycroft Holmes’s attention.

And oh, has he got it now.

“Jim Moriarty,” he says, taking out a file, opening it on his desk, like he’s some two-bit actor in a cop show. Jim sucks his teeth, tsks at the cliche. Holmes quirks an eyebrow.

“Something funny?” he asks.

Jim grins, takes that as an invitation to cross the room.

“Ohh,” Jim says, scanning his face. “You’re quite fond of me, aren’t you?”

Holmes frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“Mm-hmmm. Meeting me in your cozy little office after hours.” He places a hand on the desk, leans forward. “Half the guards are off. You think that by showing me you’re privy to privacy even in the presence of a suspected criminal-at-large, that you get to  _buck protocol,_  you’ll put me at ease, and  _aren’t I just_ flattered at the thought that went into making me feel  _comfortable_.”

Holmes gives him a dry, unamused smile, and Jim walks around the desk to crowd his space.

He leans in until he’s close enough that he’s breathing the same air as Holmes, but Holmes doesn’t give an inch. Just looks right back at him with those icy, icy eyes.

“You  _like_ me,” Jim whispers. No response, not even involuntarily. So cold. His lips are just a hair’s breadth away, but Jim stills, wondering if he’ll make a move. No reaction, and it’s unfair, really, because the impulse to shock, to kiss and bite, wars with his instinct to stay  _juust_ out of reach. He sucks in his breath, and takes a step back.

Holmes’s gaze still hasn’t changed, and Jim runs his hand along the length of the desk as he circles back around to the opposite side. He’s not silly enough to think it gives him a brief moment to hide from that impassive stare; there are cameras, there are discrete reflective surfaces, and even without them he has a way of seeing all.

“Please, take a seat.”


End file.
